The misidentified woman..
Well well well… look what we have here…another tacky, loud, American tourist. A natives dream. The first day in Bologna felt like a dream that was in a different language. I thought I would be able to adapt to the language because of my background in Spanish. Boy was I wrong. Although I was able to get by with simple verbs in Spanish and some in Italian, I failed at forming complete sentences. At the end of the day, at least I was trying!
My favorite part of not knowing the language is when the locals assume I am from somewhere fabulous, such as Denmark, France, or anywhere other than good ole Alabama. I like to pretend I have an Italian accent until they begin talking to me in Italian and I make up a completely different language.
At least pizza is the same in Italian as it is in English.